


Rainbows

by Ailette



Series: Real Rainbows [1]
Category: Sexy Zone
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Dancing, Identity Porn, Imported, M/M, Real Sexy PV setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailette/pseuds/Ailette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU; taking place in the Real Sexy PV universe but before the actual happenings in the PV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rainbows

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/80806.html)

Fuma’s eyes wander across the room, across girls laughing as they dance, across guys trying to look cool while doing the same. It’s a party; of course everyone is having fun or drinking enough to get there soon. He hasn’t been to many clubs in Water Country, this one being maybe his third. It’s difficult to sneak out of the palace and into the neighbouring country without anyone noticing him, so he doesn’t get many chances.  
  
At first, he’d been thrilled when he could just dive into the masses with no one recognizing him, no one curtsying and if people looked twice at him, it wasn’t because of his title as crown prince. But by now, it’s already beginning to bore him. All the people are beginning to blend into one, no longer strange and enticing but almost the same as everywhere else on this planet. Maybe he should visit Fire Country next.  
  
Taking a sip of his drink, his eyes begin wandering again – and then stop abruptly as they land on a newcomer standing in the doorway. He thinks several people must be doing the same, with the way the man is dressed. While everyone else is trying to reveal as much skin as possible, this guy is hidden beneath several layers of loose clothing; a hat and face mask further obscuring him. He looks a little nervous, too, fidgeting where he stands instead of stepping further inside. _Interesting_ , Fuma thinks and puts his now empty glass back down on the counter to walk over to the stranger.  
  
“Isn’t that a bit too hot,” he asks by way of greeting as he casually leans on the brick wall next to the guy.  
  
The guy jumps and Fuma almost laughs at the wide-eyed look he gets for his troubles, but manages to tune it down into a smirk instead.  
  
“I get cold easily,” the guy mumbles into his mask, eyes downcast a little. Fuma can see strands of black hair falling into his face now.  
  
“Want me to help warm you up, then?”  
  
Pretty brown eyes widen even further as Fuma casually takes his hand and playfully drags him down to the dance floor. They’re playing a medium beat song, not slow enough to warrant swaying, but Fuma links his hands behind the guy’s neck anyway as he starts moving to the music.  
  
“I’m Fuma, by the way,” he says quietly and almost into the guy’s ear. There is no reason to give a false name here, people would never guess his true identity in places like this.  
  
After a few short moments of just awkwardly standing there, the other man finally returns to life; getting a little closer to Fuma as his own hands settle on the blond’s hips. Fuma’s eyebrows raise at the forward gesture, pleasantly surprised that his dance partner apparently isn’t as shy as he seemed at first.  
  
“Kento.”  
  
They don’t exchange much more than that, quickly caught up in the music and each other as they dance instead. It doesn’t take more than two songs for Fuma to realize that Kento is everything but shy, long fingers occasionally slipping under his shirt to stroke over the exposed skin there.  When their eyes meet, Kento’s are openly challenging him, crinkling a little in amusement when Fuma looks surprised at first.  
  
Maybe it’s because of how much is hidden from his view that he notices so many small things about Kento. How his big eyes are expressive enough to convey emotions even when the rest of his features are hidden, the way he moves so gracefully to the music in a way that speaks of perfect control of his body, right down to those nice long legs Fuma lets his hands wander down to occasionally. He likes the way the corners of Kento’s eyes crinkle when he laughs at something silly Fuma says and Fuma soon finds himself doing more and more silly things just to see more of it.  
  
He also soon notes the way Kento’s bangs start to cling to his forehead, clearly not cold at all with the way he’s sweating.  
  
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he whispers into Kento’s ear, pleased with the way the fingers at his side clench a little tighter as his breath ghosts over sensitive skin. “Want me to help you get out of them?”  
  
Kento hesitates for a moment, long enough to make Fuma think he’s been a little too eager and ruined his chances because of it. But then Kento nods.  
  
Fuma grins as he pulls back, stealing Kento’s hat and putting it on himself with one hand and dragging Kento along behind him as he leads him through the mass of moving bodies and into the rest rooms. They barely make it into one of the – thankfully free – cubicles, Kento’s long fingers quickly flipping the lock behind him before Fuma pushes Kento back against the door, looking at him hungrily.  
  
“I really want to kiss you,” he says, voice deeper than usual as he watches Kento’s eyes dilate at his words.  
  
Those eyes quickly dart to the side, making Fuma wonder once again why his partner hesitates to do something he obviously wants.  
  
“Don’t be surprised,” Kento finally mumbles and, far too slowly for Fuma’s liking, moves to take off his mask. Fuma half expects to find a big scar or another potentially frightening sight, but is surprised only by how handsome all of Kento’s now revealed face is. Kento is looking at him expectantly, nervously playing with the mask in his hands.  
  
“Only thing I’m surprised about is why you would hide a face like that,” Fuma mutters and ignores the look of astonishment on Kento’s face as he finally dives in to kiss him.  
  
He doesn’t notice the mask fluttering to the floor as Kento’s hands fist themselves into the front of Fuma’s shirt, accidentally making the buttons pop open as he pulls the taller man closer to him. It’s like with the mask, all of Kento’s inhibitions vanished as well, as greedy fingers delve into Fuma’s pants, making the other man groan into his mouth and thrust into his hand.  
  
But Fuma prides himself on never letting his partners get ahead of him, so he retaliates just as quickly, just as urgently as he slides down the zipper of Kento’s jeans to rub him through the material of his underwear. Kento all but melts against him, kisses growing sloppier as they try to keep going while most of their attention is clearly further down, the hat on Fuma’s head slipping askew.  
  
It can’t take more than a few minutes before Kento shouts, loudly, as his whole body shudders with the force of orgasm. His long fingers tighten around Fuma, bringing him off only seconds later and they sag against each other, heavily panting. Kento wiggles a little, urgently searches out Fuma’s lips once more even as he’s struggling for breath and coaxing his tongue back into his mouth.  
  
Fuma follows along all too willingly, not feeling satisfied at all, more like he just took off the edge only to discover that he wants the man in front of him even more now, wants to strip away all those silly layers of clothing to finally see and touch him in his entirety. From the way Kento is still so eagerly moving against him, softly moaning into his mouth every now and then, he’s not the only one, either.  
  
“Want to go somewhere more comfortable,” he prompts, vaguely thinking of his hotel room just a few streets from here.  
  
Kento lets his head fall back against the door, mouth a little swollen and red as he looks at Fuma for a moment, then licks his lips and nods. Fuma’s attention is caught by the quick swipe of tongue, vaguely thinking that that wasn’t an unconscious gesture at all, but leans down to kiss Kento again anyway. Who is he to turn down an invitation like that?  
  
Kento sighs into his mouth happily, somehow managing to grab a few sheets of toilet paper to clean his hand before grabbing Fuma’s and doing the same for him. It’s a hassle to try and look like they haven’t just had each other’s hands down their pants, so Fuma doesn’t even try to look less debauched and just casually zips his pants up again before leaning against the stall’s wall to watch Kento as he tries to straighten his clothes. Finally, he looks up to find Fuma watching him and smiles as he reaches over to steal his hat back. The smile fades when he picks his mask up from the floor though, making a face and twisting it every which way, like that would magically make it hygienic again.  
  
Fuma watches in interest as Kento looks increasingly distressed before finally snatching the dirty mask out of his hands and flushing it down the toilet. Kento protests, reaching out for it automatically, but Fuma catches his hands with an eye roll.  
  
“You are not putting that over your mouth again,” he points out and then frowns when Kento glares at him. “Why are you so intent on hiding your face, anyway?”  
The glare subsides only a little when Kento starts fidgeting again, not answering.  
  
Fuma sighs, thinking it’s his own fault for getting interested in the one odd guy in the club and moves to take off the purple scarf from around his neck.  
“Well, whatever. It’s not far to my room, so this’ll do until we get there.”  
  
He quickly wraps the scarf around Kento’s neck, reveling in the smile he gets in return and quickly leaning down to kiss it once more before regretfully pulling the cloth up to Kento’s nose. He tugs on it a little more just because he likes the way Kento’s warm skin feels when he brushes his fingers against it ‘accidentally’.  
  
“There, no one can tell how pretty you are now,” he proclaims and doesn’t miss the way Kento’s cheeks heat up even as he pulls the hat deeper into his face.  
  
“Thanks,” Kento says and Fuma likes that he can hear his smile even as he turns around to unlock the door. He waits for Fuma to step next to him before linking their hands and squeezing lightly. “Lead the way.”  
  
Fuma does that all too gladly. He notices Kento shrinking into himself a little as they make their way back out through the club and all the people in it, his grip involuntarily tightening and glancing backwards more often to make sure Kento is alright. But no one spares them much more than passing glances and whatever secret Kento is trying to protect stays hidden until they make it into the quiet of the dark streets outside.  
  
He relaxes visibly once there aren’t any people around, moving closer to Fuma and leaning against his side as they continue walking. After a few steps, Kento apparently feels the need to make some small talk. Fuma doesn’t mind, he’s probably even more curious about Kento than the other way around – just not nearly as good with expressing his interest without making it a pick-up line.  
  
“You’re not from here, are you?”  
  
Fuma glances sideways in surprise. “How do you figure?”  
  
He can tell from the way Kento’s eyes crinkle that the other man is smiling at him again. “You said you had a room close by. So I’m guessing you’re staying in a hotel.”  
  
“Oh, right.”  
  
“And… you also don’t know me, so you’re probably from pretty far away.”  
  
At that, Fuma stops walking, eyes narrowing a little as he takes a long look at Kento. The words had been said confidently, but the man next to him looks everything but, at that moment. He looks a little worried, actually, and Fuma realizes that he hasn’t figured out Fuma’s secret at all, but is rather close to spilling his own.  
  
So, instead of answering, he resumes walking, taking a quick look around to make sure they’re going the right way.  
  
“I’m just here to see the sights,” he says and then leers at Kento quite exaggeratedly, making the other man laugh, the tension finally ebbing out of him again.  
  
“So you go looking for sights every night?”  
  
The question is casual enough, but Fuma doesn’t miss the underlying meaning. _Do you go around picking up strangers and inviting them into your bed every night_?  
  
“Most sights are only pretty in the badly-lit hallways of clubs,” he says, not caring that he’s screwing up the metaphor. “I don’t usually find them interesting enough to look at them again in daylight.”  
  
“Then we better hurry, the sun is coming up in a few hours.”  
  
Fuma can see his hotel now and turns around to tug down the scarf before cupping Kento’s cheeks, looking at him for a moment before whispering, “It can’t come soon enough. I’ll need it, because I want to see everything of you.”  
  
Kento opens his mouth to retort, but Fuma quickly seals their lips again, right in the middle of the street. As expected, Kento pushes him back after a just a few moments, nervously looking around before pulling his scarf back up.  
  
“That goes both ways,” he says brightly. “But not right here.”  
  
Fuma is mildly amused that Kento would think he’s want to do anything right here, empty street or no; and while the mental image of dragging Kento into a side-street and pushing him up against a brick wall right there is certainly tempting, he meant what he said about seeing all of Kento and their first little encounter of the night was already hurried enough, he wants it to be more comfortable for both of them now.  
  
The hotel clerk looks up as they make their way past him, but doesn’t do much more than bow slightly in greeting before focusing on the papers in front of him again. The door to Fuma’s room closes silently behind them without anyone else crossing their path.  
  
Once it does, Fuma steps forward, his hand sliding free from Kento’s as he sits down on his bed, grinning a little and petting the space next to him when the other man doesn’t immediately move to follow him.  
  
The sun isn’t up yet, but with the light on, he appreciates the elegant way Kento moves towards him just the same. Instead of taking Fuma up on his invitation though, Kento moves to straddle him, his knees coming to rest on either side of Fuma’s legs as he comfortably sits down in his lap.  
  
“The light is cheating,” Kento points out, but moves to take off his hat and Fuma’s scarf by himself anyway.  
  
Fuma shrugs, one hand coming to rest on the small of Kento’s back to support him and the other reaching up to trace over the smooth skin of his cheek as he admires Kento’s revealed face.  
  
“I don’t want to wait even longer to see you,” he admits.  
  
Kento leans into the hand on his cheek easily, liking the slightly roughened feeling of Fuma’s fingers. He wonders if the other man plays any instruments, but doesn’t ask for now. His own hands have begun unbuttoning Fuma’s shirt, his eyes following their movements as the shirt parts to reveal a muscular chest. His fingers wander further, developing a mind of their own as they touch warm skin.  
  
“Fine,” Kento says distractedly as his fingers wander over a small scar on Fuma’s side. “How did you get this?”  
  
Fuma chuckles, not missing that it’s him getting naked instead of Kento despite his words, but follows Kento’s gaze as long fingers brush over the sensitive skin of his scar.  
  
“Stupidity,” he says with a shrug and thinks that’ll be it, but Kento’s fingers keep tracing the thin silver line and he shakes his head, sharp eyes meeting Fuma’s as he looks up.  
  
“That’s from a sword.”  
  
It’s Fuma’s turn to be surprised and he blurts out, “How do you know?” before he can even think to deny it. Only royalty and soldiers are allowed to even carry swords; it narrows down who he could be quite a bit.  
  
Kento hesitates for a moment before reaching back to take Fuma’s hand and guide it beneath his vest and shirt to touch skin. Puzzled, Fuma looks at him for a moment, not sure if Kento’s suddenly decided to move on from the topic or what, when his fingers brush over an indent in Kento’s skin. He frowns, letting his hands splay out across his back and realizing there is a scar on Kento’s otherwise smooth skin there.  
  
“I’ve got matching ones,” Kento says by way of explanation and watches Fuma’s face closely as the other’s hand travels further up his back to find a second scar there.  
It takes a while for Fuma to realize the implications and add those to Kento’s words from earlier tonight, from how he hid himself so completely and figured out Fuma wasn’t from these parts. Because people from this country would recognize someone high born; Water Country just as obsessed with their royalty as any other nation.  
The irony doesn’t escape Fuma as he shakes his head in amusement. If anyone would ever hear about this, it would probably cause a nationwide incident, depending on how high up in the hierarchy Kento stood.  
  
On second thought, the fact that he was high-born was probably enough already; given Fuma was the freaking _crown prince_ of his own country.  
  
“That explains some things,” Fuma says out loud, a smile curling his lips as he shrugs the vest off of Kento’s shoulders and pushes the shirt over his head. He notes with some satisfaction that no scars mar Kento’s chest, at least.  
  
“For you, maybe,” Kento grumbles, but lets Fuma strip him without resisting before leaning forward to nip at his jaw. “I still don’t know where you got yours from.”  
  
He moves a little further upwards, brushing his nose through blond hair before speaking right into Fuma’s ear. “For all I know, I ended up in bed with a mercenary.”  
  
Despite his words, it’s clear that he has no intention of stopping and Fuma gasps when teeth gently scrape over his ear lobe, carefully avoiding his earring.  
  
“You don’t seem to mind though,” he says and shrugs out of his own shirt, feeling like he’s the one with too many clothes on now.  
  
“Oh, I do,” Kento assures him and with a giggle still way too close to Fuma’s sensitive ears, he lets his hands wander to the front of Fuma’s jeans. “I’m just searching you for weapons.”  
  
Fuma laughs outright at that, a little breathless as Kento kneels and makes him lie back down on the bed to tug his jeans and underwear off of him. “You have a very thorough way of searching people here, I see.”  
  
Kento grins, straddling Fuma again as he leans down to kiss him open-mouthed. Fuma can’t help but buck up against him, the rough denim of Kento’s pants against his now exposed erection a bad tease.   
  
“You can try it too, if you want. Show me how they do it where you’re from.”  
  
Fuma all too gladly takes him up on that offer, slinging a leg around Kento’s waist to flip them over and distracting him with another kiss as he rids him off the remainder of his clothes and settles his hands under Kento’s ass, squeezing heartily and making Kento gasp.  
  
“I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. You’d be so disappointed if you go there and didn’t get the same treatment.”  
  
Kento laughs into Fuma’s mouth, squirming in his grip and letting his own hands run down Fuma’s sides to let them rest there.  
  
“And where would that be, exactly?”  
  
Fuma hesitates for a moment, buying himself time by leaning down to suck on Kento’s collarbone, nosing against his neck and kissing his way back up to his mouth. Kento obviously likes the attention, but is far from distracted when he meets Fuma’s eyes again, obviously still waiting for an answer.  
  
The problem is, Fuma _wants_ to give it to him. There’s something very enticing about Kento, something that only interests him more the more he gets to see of the other man rather than the other way around. And that is precisely why it’s dangerous; he wants to be honest and tell this man everything. He’s only met him a few short hours ago, but Kento is placing trust in him by revealing his secret to him and not running when Fuma really very well could be someone threatening to him.  
  
But then there’s the problem with the national incidents and really, Fuma doesn’t want to cause any problems for either him or Kento; quite sure Kento would get into more trouble than him because of it. So really, he’ll be doing him a favour by not revealing too much.  
  
 Just… a little.  
  
“Wind Country,” he finally says and Kento’s eyes widen.  
  
It’s expected; their countries aren’t exactly allies even at the best of times. So many wars have been fought in the past that even nowadays, it’s frowned upon to visit the other country. Fuma certainly only ever had been here in official capacity once and he’d been 9 at the time.  
  
“That’s… pretty far.”  
  
“Mh,” Fuma makes, pulling back a little and resting his hand on either side of Kento’s head to hold himself up above him. They seem to have reached stalemate, naked and aroused as they are, panting as they look at each other curiously.  
  
“Did you really just come for sightseeing?”  
  
Fuma tilts his head. “I came to see and do things I normally can’t,” he says, wondering if that’s giving too much away. But he wants, _needs_ , Kento to trust him at least that much, so he adds, “I definitely didn’t come here to do any harm to anyone.”  
  
He could be lying, of course, but still, a smile spreads over Kento’s features as he reaches one hand up to smack Fuma lightly across the back of the head. “Of course you didn’t. I’m not that bad a judge of character.”  
  
Fuma laughs and lets Kento’s hand in his hair push him down and into a long and slow kiss. When they part again, a flush has spread over Kento’s cheeks and he whispers, “The fact that you came up to me out of all those people in the club is a bit much of a coincidence though.”  
  
Fuma grins, nudging Kento so they can scoot up further on the bed and make use of its entirety instead of almost falling off the edge as soon as one of them moves. Kento uses the opportunity to switch their positions again, grinning down at him looking so pleased with himself that Fuma can only shake his head in amusement and let him.  
  
He waits until they’re settled again before he says, “You stood out with all those layers of clothing, that’s why I came up to you. And after that, you just turned out to be more and more intriguing, so it’s your own fault for luring me in.”  
  
“Or maybe it’s fate,” Kento suggests and smiles in a way that makes Fuma’s stomach do a little summersault before he giggles embarrassedly and pulls Fuma up into another kiss.  
  
“Yeah,” Fuma agrees thoughtlessly as he watches Kento quickly lean to the side and dig through the nightstand decisively afterwards and grab something before settling in Fuma’s lap once more. Fuma raises his eyebrows at the ready supplies. Kento smiles, face still flushed and obviously a little embarrassed.  
  
“Don’t look at me like that, it’s that kind of hotel and you’re the one staying here,” he mumbles and presses the items into Fuma’s waiting hands.  
  
Fuma is tempted to tease him for obviously knowing about it, but then he properly takes in the sight in front of him again and decides to leave that for later. “I didn’t realize, but that certainly comes in handy,” he mutters instead and uncaps the tube.  
  
Kento raises onto his knees, slinging his arms around Fuma’s shoulders when Fuma’s fingers begin to trail up the inside of his thighs, making his breathing stutter. Fuma licks up a stripe over his chest when he inserts two fingers and Kento has to tighten his grip in order not to have his legs give out immediately. He pushes his hips down into Fuma’s long fingers, moaning as they work him open.  
  
Fuma finds himself watching Kento’s face, unable to look away when his mouth opens on a soft moan before deep brown eyes meet his and a hint of red dusts Kento’s cheeks. He leans forward to connect their mouths, successfully distracting Fuma from staring at him when his tongue slides between full lips and against his. They keep kissing even when Kento’s breath hitches every now and then, his whole body jerking in Fuma’s arms when his fingers find a good spot inside him.  
  
“Hurry, please,” he finally pants against Fuma’s lips, sending a shiver down Fuma’s spine.  
  
Fuma is too wound up from the evening they’ve had and just the sight and feeling of Kento to double-check if Kento is sure, instead just nods and slips the condom onto his erection with somewhat unsteady fingers before guiding it to Kento’s entrance. Only letting the tip slip in, he gently bites Kento’s ear, letting him hear the shaky exhale of breath.  
  
“Move if you want more,” he whispers playfully and Kento’s reply is a drawn-out groan as he complies, lowering himself onto Fuma’s dick and filling himself with it.  
  
He’s moving slowly, breath hitching every few moments and his eyes flying shut when he moves too fast. It has obviously been a while for him and the thought combined with the deliciously tight heat slowly engulfing his cock make Fuma thrust up. Kento yelps, fingernails digging harshly into Fuma’s shoulders.  
  
“God,” he moans and lets Fuma grab his hips and guide him down the last few centimeters until he is completely buried inside the smaller man.  
  
Fuma starts rocking upwards, slowly and rhythmically, methodically driving Kento all but insane. Every thrust makes him moan Fuma’s name, the syllables messily rolling over his tongue as Fuma pounds into him faster and faster. Kento is hardly just a passive participant in this, though; gyrating his hips as he works himself down onto Fuma just as Fuma thrusts upwards, making both of them moan with the movement. This isn’t meant to last the whole night and Fuma doesn’t hold back, fucking Kento and making him scream within minutes. Every noise Kento makes only serves to spur him on more, driving into the man above him quicker and harsher with every thrust.  
  
“Fu-Fuma,” Kento pants, voice high and tinged with desperation, clearly on the edge himself.  
  
Fuma lets one of his hands wrap around Kento’s erection, pumping it up and down quickly even as he keeps pounding into him. Just a few more thrusts and Kento screams, coming between them and tightening around Fuma inside him. Seeing no reason to wait, Fuma fucks him through his orgasm, not giving him a second’s rest before coming himself. Shuddering and holding the body above him as still as he can with the shivers running down Kento’s body as he empties himself into the condom.  
  
They remain like that, clinging onto each other, panting and looking at the other for a while, neither willing nor able to move just yet. Finally, Kento lifts himself up to let Fuma slip out of him, giving the younger man a chance to take off and fling the tied off condom in the direction of the waste bin.  
  
They meet each other’s eyes and Fuma can’t help himself, he grins and kisses Kento once more. Kento melts into him easily, completely boneless in his arms; suddenly tired.  
  
Fuma doesn’t blame him; it’s late night, their activities have been rather exhausting and he wouldn’t mind getting some sleep himself. He is, however, not yet ready to let Kento get out of his grasp and vanish back to whatever sheltered life he usually led.  
  
Lazily, his lips trail up from Kento’s mouth to his ear, playfully licking the shell and making Kento wiggle on top of him.  
  
“I didn’t think you’d be the type to like cuddling,” Kento finally breathes out as Fuma gives up on tickling him in order to pull Kento down onto the mattress next to him and into his arms.  
  
“Then think of it as foreplay.”  
  
Kento raises his eyebrows at him. “You mean you want to have another go? Right now?”  
  
“Enticing as that sounds, I don’t think either of us can manage that just yet,” Fuma says and, as if emphasizing his point, has to yawn. “But later. Sleep now.”  
  
“You don’t want to let me go yet, huh,” Kento says smugly and comfortably snuggles into Fuma’s side, letting his head come to rest on the younger man’s chest.  
  
Fuma reaches up to let one hand rake through Kento’s silky black hair, oddly endeared with the sight of him even as he has to fight off another yawn.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
Kento only giggles in reply, the soft breath ghosting across Fuma’s skin making him shiver a little. It doesn’t take long for sleep to take them.  
  
Though they don’t get to sleep for long, before Fuma wakes up and decides that instead of waiting until it’s really morning to wake up Kento for a little more fun in a way that makes it impossible for Kento to refuse.

***

They’re properly roused the next day by someone knocking on Fuma’s hotel room door like they’re trying to break it down. It takes Fuma ages to realize that there’s shouting to go along with the knocking and finally manages to make out the voice as the owner’s, harshly reminding him that he’d only paid for the room until this morning.  
  
Fuma groans and rolls out of bed, throwing his blanket over Kento as a last minute thought and causing Kento to grunt unhappily beneath it.  He hastily slides into his pants at least before opening the door, digging through his pockets for a moment before pressing a few notes into the owner’s open hand and muttering about taking the room for a few days longer. The old man in front of him frowns at the bills, then grins at Fuma’s state of undress and opens his mouth to say something – which is when Fuma decides to throw the door back shut in his face.  
  
Leaning against the solid wood for a moment to sigh and run a hand over his face in an attempt to get the rest of him to wake up, he doesn’t even see the pillow coming before it hits him in the chest. More confused than anything, he follows the direction it came from to see Kento, propped up on one arm and glaring at him through terribly tousled bed hair.  
  
Fuma grins. “Morning.”  
  
Kento grumbles something under his breath before taking a look around the room blearily, blinking at the bright sunrays coming from the window where they had forgotten to close the blinds the night before. Apparently deciding that he doesn’t appreciate so much light after all, he turns to drop back on his back and closes his eyes again, making Fuma snort.  
  
“Though it’s apparently already noon,” Fuma adds as an afterthought as he steps forward to crawl back onto the bed and across Kento’s sprawled out form, straddling his middle and grinning down at the grumpy man beneath him.  “Guess we overslept.”  
  
“I don’t feel like we slept at all,” Kento groans and turns slightly to let his head fall back down on the pillow and take in the sight of the shirtless chest right in front of him. “That second round was a bad idea.”  
  
Fuma purses his lips. “You weren’t complaining when you woke up to my mouth around your-”  
  
The squeak that leaves Kento’s mouth can definitely not be described as words, but with the way his hands quickly come up to swat at Fuma and his cheeks heat up, Fuma takes mercy on him and only laughs instead of continuing. He catches one of the flailing hands in his and playfully brings it to his mouth to press a chaste kiss against the knuckles, pleased when the action causes Kento to calm down and smile sheepishly at him.  
  
“You’re terrible,” Kento says and uses Fuma’s hold on him to pull the other man down instead, kissing him properly like they did so many times last night.  
  
“I do my best.”  
  
Kento nods and stretches a little, his feet wiggling like he’s suddenly getting impatient. “So it’s already the middle of the day?”  
  
Fuma nods, reaching out to run his fingers through Kento’s hair, trying to ease the chaos there a little.  
  
“Then I guess we should get out of bed already. I hope you didn’t have any plans that you have to abandon now.”  
  
“I don’t really want to,” is all Fuma says, enjoying the feeling of silky strands in his fingers. “I was actually planning to leave early today, but…”  
  
Truthfully, he’d been here for three days already and was pushing his luck if he stayed any longer. At some point his absence from the palace would be noticed and people would start worrying and looking for him which would be troublesome for obvious reasons.  
  
“How about you stay a little longer and I show you around some of the actual sights here?”  
  
Fuma wishes he could say he has to at least consider the repercussions of such a decision, but instead he’s eagerly nodding and quickly moves off the bed instead, dragging a slightly unwilling Kento along.  
  
“I thought you didn’t want to get up?”  
  
“Changed my mind. If we’re going out, we should at least take a shower first,” Fuma says nonchalantly in a way that makes it unmistakably clear that he means the two of them, together.  
  
Kento laughs and finally lets himself be pulled into the adjoining bathroom.  
  
It’s early afternoon by the time they finally make it out of the hotel, with Kento once again hidden beneath far too many layers of clothing for Fuma’s taste. He does like to see his scarf around Kento’s neck though, even if it would look so much nicer if it didn’t serve the purpose of obscuring half of the other man’s face.  
  
Other than hiding his appearance though, Kento doesn’t seem as scared of being discovered as he did last night. Which is odd, considering that they’re out on busy streets in broad daylight now rather than in a small dimly lit club, but Fuma doesn’t think to mention it when Kento eagerly slips his arm through Fuma’s and proceeds to lead him down the main street while excitedly talking about the well he wants to show him and its history.  
  
Every now and then, he stops to point at old buildings and Fuma is admittedly impressed by how much Kento seems to know about this city. When he mentions as much, Kento’s eyes crinkle in that way that means he’s smiling that really bright smile of his again and he seems very pleased that Fuma noticed.  
  
“I studied history.”  
  
“Compulsory lessons?” Fuma asks, thinking of his own he had to attend while growing up and how little he probably remembered from them.  
  
“I had those as well, but I chose to study history further, afterwards. I like knowing all these stories and relations of buildings and people and countries. How there’s always a reason for everything and certain events always seem to repeat themselves.”  
  
If he’s honest, Fuma’s more interested in the way Kento’s eyes light up as he talks and gestures around him as they continue walking than he is in the actual content of Kento’s words. It’s endearing, and only goes to ascertain the feeling that the more he learns about Kento, the less he wants to let him out of his grasp. In an attempt to express that feeling without using words, he lets his arm slip away from Kento’s to slide his hand further down and link their fingers.  
  
Kento’s seemingly endless stream of words subsides for a moment and Fuma can see him glance down at their hands from the corner of his eye. Neither of them stops walking, but Kento doesn’t resume his little history lessons, either. Fuma wonders if he’s taking a liberty here that he shouldn’t have, but then, whatever they were doing now certainly already went way beyond a quick one-night stand.  
  
Finally, hesitantly, Kento pulls his hand back away from him to fiddle with his borrowed scarf again.  
  
“Sorry,” Fuma mumbles and is then surprised when an arm sneaks back to loop around his.  
  
“I really want to,” Kento explains regretfully, “But people are much more likely to notice a couple holding hands than they are two people who’re just strolling down the street together as friends.”  
  
The atmosphere is cooling quickly, so Fuma concentrates on the one part of the explanation he takes an honest interest in. “A couple, huh.”  
  
“No, I mean, I know we only-”  
  
“Are there any places with no people around?”  
  
Kento watches him curiously for a moment and then nods, steering them into the next side street on the left. “There’s a park with some natural wells close by. It’s really beautiful and there are some areas that no one ever visits.”  
  
The park itself isn’t empty at all. In fact it’s crowded enough to make Fuma want to comment on it right up until Kento nudges his side and then pulls him off the path and into the woods. The green isn’t too deep and rather easy to go through and after just a few minutes of quiet walking, they break out of it and step out right in front of a small lake and waterfall in a clearing.  
  
“A little further,” Kento says and lets go of Fuma to climb down towards the edge of stone beneath them. “Watch your step, it’s a little slippery.”  
  
Slippery it is, indeed. Fuma underestimates it at first because Kento moves along the narrow stone path in front of him so effortlessly, but grows much more careful after almost falling headfirst into the lake.  
  
“Do you know a lot of these sorts of places?”  
  
Kento laughs slightly in front of him, throwing a quick glance back. “Just enough to get away and not have anyone find me sometimes. I like being around people, but sometimes it’s just… a bit much, you know?”  
  
Fuma nods without thinking about it; too concentrated on not breaking his neck as they edge ever closer to the roaring waterfall to think of covering up his identity. “Sometimes you just need to get away for a bit so you can remember who you are and not who people need you to be.”  
  
By the time it occurs to him that maybe, that’s giving a little too much away, a hand suddenly closes around his wrist and he looks up with a start to find Kento has stopped right in front of him, glancing back at him almost nervously before returning his attention to the front and, with a quick motion of his hand, parting the waterfall in front of them. Fuma’s jaw drops.  
  
Everyone could use a little bit of their country’s magic, depending on how gifted they were. But to so easily redirect a waterfall just like that – that required a very strong and fine control. The sort of control that was usually wielded only by the direct line of the crown.  
  
Kento wasn’t just high born.  
  
“You,” Fuma starts incredulously before he’s unceremoniously tugged forwards; through the little stone gateway beneath the waterfall and into a small clearing completely surrounded by stone walls.  
  
He doesn’t even notice when Kento’s hand withdraws, too busy staring at the sheepish looking figure in front of him.  
  
“What rank do you hold, exactly?”  
  
The question seems to startle Kento with its preciseness, making him inadvertently draw back a little. He might have assumed Fuma had figured him out completely last night or that his little trick wouldn’t be enough to give his secret away entirely. To his credit, he doesn’t try to avoid the question.  
  
“I’m the crown prince,” he says quietly, watching Fuma closely for his reaction to the revelation. When Fuma’s stare only widens, he sighs and lowers his head in defeat.  
The movement seems so dramatic; it only serves to make Fuma aware of the ridiculousness of their situation. Of all the people he could have met. Of all the people he did meet every time he came here, meeting Nakajima Kento, Crown Prince of Water Country, really isn’t something that had ever even occurred to him.  
  
Fuma can’t help it, after one unsuccessful attempt to stifle it, he bursts out laughing loudly.  
  
He almost doesn’t notice the way Kento’s form goes rigid until the other man turns away from him, staring at the clearing instead. It takes him a few more gasping laughs before realizing what this has to look like to Kento without knowing what Fuma does. It has to look like he’s ridiculing him and with that the trust Kento had placed in him ever since they first laid eyes on each other at the club last night. That’s the last thing Fuma wants.  
  
He reaches out, but Kento resolutely brushes his hand off without turning back. With a glance upwards he notes dark clouds gathering above them and frowns, knowing all too well that when the yielder has a lot of magic in his grasp, his stronger moods and emotions are likely to influence the weather.  
  
“Kento,” he says, aware that the amusement hasn’t completely gone from his voice just yet. “You need to understand why exactly that’s funny.”  
  
“No,” Kento snaps and his voice sounds strangled in a way that makes Fuma’s heart clench a little. “I think you’re amused enough for the both of us.”  
  
Fuma sighs, reaching out his fingers and drawing on his own magic. It feels a little strange doing it here, in a country that isn’t at all used to his kind of magic, but after a few brief seconds, he finds the stream of energy he’s looking for even here and reaches out to bring it into his grasp.  
  
“Kento,” he says again and motions with his fingers to make a light breeze pick up and swivel around the other man playfully. At first he only lets it lightly tug at the clothes the other man is wearing, then he takes control more directly and uses it to make Kento’s hat fall off and fly towards him.  
  
On instinct, Kento tries to catch it and turns around, only to stop short when Fuma lets his finger swirl and the hat dance in the air between them. Kento’s mouth opens slightly as he stares and points at the hat, then at Fuma.  
  
Fuma smirks at the utterly shocked expression on Kento’s face and raises his other hand to make the wind playfully tousle Kento’s hair and tug at his scarf, making it slip down the rest of the way to reveal the slowly dawning realization on his face.  
  
“Fuma,” Kento says slowly, the name rolling of his tongue like he’s really trying it out for the first time. “ _Kikuchi_ Fuma.”  
  
It’s odd to hear his name being said in such a way when he’s heard Kento scream it and use it so many times since they first met last night. Then he frowns, having another realization all by himself.  
  
“Last night wasn’t actually the first time we met.”  
  
Kento’s brows furrow in confusion for a moment, but then it seems to hit him as well and all of a sudden, a laugh is startled out of him that he belatedly tries to cover up with a hand in front of his mouth.  
  
“ _Oh_. You’re right! That time when all the ruling families came here to hold council, you were there, too,” Kento’s voice trails off as he steps closer to Fuma, his smile mischievous as he reaches up to cup Fuma’s cheeks. “But you were tiny and had these really adorable…”  
  
There’s a minute hesitation before warm hands come into contact with skin and settle there for a second before Kento’s smile transforms into an all-out grin and Fuma knows exactly what he’s going to do even before he feels long fingers pinching his cheeks. Kento actually _squeals_ at the feeling and laughs in delight when Fuma only glares at him but doesn’t move to fight him off.  
  
“You know, this is why I didn’t like you at the time,” Fuma points out, his voice sounding somewhat odd when Kento is still busy squishing his cheeks together.  
  
“Good thing you like me now, then,” Kento says smugly, not stopping his ministrations until Fuma half-heartedly snaps after his fingers. Kento laughs and finally pulls his hands out of the reach of Fuma’s teeth, eyes turning a little more solemn as he looks at him. “Right?”  
  
Fuma raises an eyebrow at him. “I thought that was obvious.”  
  
“Well, you definitely liked me last night,” Kento allows, cheeks dusting ever so slightly at his own words. “But how about now?”  
  
Fuma chooses to go for actions instead of words, since those have helped them every time so far, and wraps his arms around Kento’s waist to pull him close again. Kento lets him without resistance, brown eyes wide as he glances up at Fuma, waiting for something.  
  
Fuma wonders if it’s because he’s had a bit of a head start in knowing Kento’s identity or he’s still too caught up in the memories of Kento above him, beneath him and everywhere around him . But in the end, when he leans down to kiss Kento hungrily, he doesn’t think it’s either of those reasons.  
  
He doesn’t know Kento’s reason for pulling him down onto the grass a few minutes later, either, but hopes that it’s similar to his. He vaguely thinks of all the grass stains on their clothes when Kento maneuvers them so he’s lying on top of Fuma, hands gently cupping his face now while he continues kissing him.  
  
“Are you using me as a glorified blanket,” he asks mildly between kisses and revels in the feeling of Kento laughing against his lips.  
  
“I would never use the crown prince of Wind Country just to avoid grass stains,” Kento says seriously, then ruins it by adding, “Though I have to go home in these clothes and you have something to change into at your hotel room, so it’s only fair.”  
  
Kento has exactly two seconds to notice the dangerous glint in Fuma’s eyes and then squawks in protest when Fuma’s turns their positions around.  
  
It’s almost a given that Kento doesn’t just give up there and in the end, they both have bits and pieces from flowers and blades of grass in their hair and neither set of clothing is still anywhere near its original colour. Though Kento clearly wins their little wrestling match – by cheating, as Fuma points out and Kento warningly raises a hand, ready to throw another handful of water at him. Fuma quickly holds his hands up in surrender, admitting defeat. His clothes are already wet and it’s getting chilly as the sun vanishes around them, he doesn’t need to get himself even wetter.  
  
“If I catch a cold on my way back, I’m blaming you,” he mutters grumpily as he gets back to his feet.  
  
“Sure, send a formal letter of complaint to the palace,” Kento replies easily and lets himself be pulled up as well. Dusting off doesn’t dislodge much of the dirt, so he gives up on that quickly.  
  
“I will,” Fuma promises darkly, then tilts his head. “Do you have to go back there yet? Because I should get back home, but I kind of paid the landlord a little too much this morning and said I’d stay a little longer, so…”  
  
Kento’s relaxed form stiffens a little, the edges of his smile turning downward regretfully. “I was away for more than a day without notifying anyone. If I don’t get back tonight someone will definitely notice.”  
  
“Oh,” Fuma says and clears his throat when his voice comes out small and a little sad.  There’s an awkward silence when suddenly, their positions don’t seem all that funny anymore.  
  
“We won’t meet again, I guess,” Kento says eventually, not meeting Fuma’s eyes.  
  
Fuma nods after a beat. “Right, that’d be stupid.”  
  
It would be. Difficult, too. They’d met by pure luck and not been found out this once, but meeting from now on would be almost impossible to arrange. Communication to other countries is being observed strictly, especially between members of the royal families. There’s no way to just sneak out and meet up without arranging anything first. Just one nice day wasn’t enough reason to try something insane like that.  
  
 “Except once.”  
  
Fuma’s still nodding dejectedly when the actual meaning of the words filters through and his head snaps back up. “What?”  
  
 “Because I’ll need to borrow your scarf to get home,” Kento points out as he bends down to gather said scarf up from the ground. “And. You’ll have to get it back, right?”  
  
Fuma stares at Kento, a little overwhelmed at the picture he paints with that little mischievous grin and sparkling eyes. There are still a lot of things left he hasn’t figured out about Kento at all. It seems that he’s barely made it beyond the first few layers so far.  
  
Instead of admitting any of that, he says, “Right,” and moves to help wrap the scarf around Kento once again.  
  
Once he’s done, he takes his stolen hat off and hands it over as well. Kento looks a little ridiculous with his too many layers of dirty clothes and his face once again hidden, but he supposes like this there really is very little danger of him being recognized.  
  
Kento fidgets a little with his scarf, tugging it up and then back down again and glancing at Fuma. It’s obvious neither of them really knows how to say their good-byes now, not quite certain when or how they’ll meet again; though both are relieved that the intention has been uttered out loud.  
  
Fuma reaches out through soft wind, brushing over Kento’s cheeks until the other man’s eyes crinkle a little at the realization that it’s not natural wind at all. It seems to give Kento a little bit of courage as he steps close again to seal their mouths together without any other words, the promise loud and clear in that gesture alone.  
Fuma also stays silent when Kento pulls back, just watching for a moment and smiling when Kento does that thing with his tongue again. He still sees it as an invitation, so he follows.  
  
“What do you think of balls?”  
  
When Fuma opens his mouth to make a very obvious joke about that, Kento quickly adds, “The kind with the dancing.”  
  
“I’ve been told that I’m a good dancer,” Fuma says, not adding that of course he was, he’d had lessons starting at four years old.  
  
“Then I think I know the next time we’ll meet.”  
  
And it wasn’t even that much of a deal. They would meet again, have fun and enjoy their time and each other and maybe then meet a few times more. That was all.  
It wasn’t like they were planning to get married and throw their countries into turmoil.


End file.
